


Confessions in Your Sleep

by Scorching_Winds



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dirty Talk, Eventual Smut, Jaskier talks in his sleep, M/M, Sleep Confessions, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Two loveable idiots bantering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorching_Winds/pseuds/Scorching_Winds
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier decide to camp for the night in the woods. Jaskier talks in his sleep, revealing his dirtiest desires for the witcher.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 132





	Confessions in Your Sleep

Geralt and Jaskier had been travelling towards a village to buy some more supplies, as they were running low. As dusk began to approach, they had decided to set up camp for the night in a nice little forest. As far as Geralt could tell, there were no monsters prowling about. The only thing he could sense lurking in the darkness were ordinary woodland creatures, and they posed no threat. The worse they could face was a bear, but Geralt would be able to take it down easily. He highly doubted anything would come and attack them. The fire and the noise would keep most animals away, as they tended to be wary of humans. They would only bother Geralt and Jaskier if they were starving and desperate for food, but the forest was plentiful, so Geralt did not worry one bit.

The two companions were sitting by a nice, medium-sized fire, watching the rabbits Geralt had caught in the forest being cooked on a spit. The fire sent waves of heat towards the duo, warming them up. The flames danced, rising higher and shining vibrantly, providing a beacon of orange light in the otherwise dark and gloomy forest.

Geralt, seated on a rock by the fire, turned the spit on occasion, making sure that the rabbits were cooking evenly. He focused on his task, remaining silent for the most part as he listened to Jaskier ramble on and on about his next songs and try to weasel stories out of Geralt for new material, which left Geralt to remain stubbornly silent. He wasn’t going to fuel the fire of Jaskier’s inaccurate tellings of his adventures; at least, not if he could help it.

“So…” Jaskier, continued to speak with a wide grin spread across his face as he sat across from Geralt on a small log he had found in the woods. The bard had rolled the log up to their campsite while it was still light out, as he refused to sit on the ground and get his pants dirty. “I was thinking, I could write a song on our first encounter with that crazy witch that we met. You know, a tale of orgies, a djinn, a sexy sorceress, and of course, you.” He chuckled slightly. “Wouldn’t that be splendid? I think it would be a tale most excellently sung by yours truly.”

Geralt sighed heavily, finally replying to Jaskier in full sentences rather than grunting two word responses. He knew there was no way out of this. “Another fabrication not accurate to the source material you mean,” he gruffed as he turned the rabbits on the fire. “And Yennefer is not a crazy witch. She’s a sorceress, and she saved your life. You'd best be careful on how you sing about her. I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate any negative spotlight.”

“Hey, it is accurate!” Jaskier protested, huffing slightly. “More or less.” He shook his head. “Witch, sorceress, same thing. And she /is/ crazy. That whole djinn fiasco proved that! Absolutely stunning, but insane. She may of saved my life, but I still don’t trust her. Yennefer scares me. Don't worry, I'll be careful. I'm not too worried about it though. I have you to protect me.”

Geralt snorted but did not reply on the subject further, choosing instead to focus on the cooking rabbit like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

Jaskier took Geralt’s silence as an agreement to his statement, and smiled. “See? You’re not disagreeing.”

“Rabbit’s done,” Geralt announced, deciding to ignore Jaskier’s claim. Just because he was quiet didn’t mean that he thought what the bard was saying to be true, despite what he knew Jaskier was thinking. 

Jaskier didn’t seem to take offense to Geralt ignoring his last comment. His grin grew wider on his face. “Finally! I’m absolutely famished! Singing about your grandeur and heroism is a lot of work, you have no idea! I’ve been working on a whole new collection of songs about you, you know.”

“Of course you are,” Geralt said with a sigh as he carefully took the rabbits off of the spit and started to cut the cooked meat off the bone, putting it in two bowls, one for each of them. He should of known Jaskier would write a shit ton more songs about him. The bard followed him around for a reason. Geralt was the greatest source of Jaskier’s inspiration, unfortunately for him. “I don’t understand why you’re so fascinated by me. I’m really not that interesting.”

Jaskier looked baffled and somewhat offended by Geralt’s statement, despite the White Wolf directing it at himself. “Of course you’re interesting!” He exclaimed, protesting Geralt’s words. “You’re the White Wolf! Geralt of Rivia! The famed witcher!”

Geralt shook his head. “Repeating my name, occupation, and title that you chose to give me doesn’t prove my statement false,” he countered, glancing up briefly at Jaskier before continuing his task of removing the meat from the rabbits’ bones. He tossed the organs in a separate container, along with the severed heads of the rodents. Why was Jaskier so offended? It was like he threw a bad insult at him. 

“Oh but on the contrary my dear Geralt, it most certainly does.” Jaskier was positively beaming. “Everybody knows of your splendor, your ruggedly handsome good looks, your excellent sword wielding and monster hunting skills, and how much of a god you are in bed according to some very beautiful women.” He gave the other man a devilish grin. “You’re welcome, by the way,” He added with a wink, chuckling slightly.

Geralt raised a quizzical eyebrow at Jaskier’s words. He gave a roll of the eyes before speaking once more. “I’m not one to boast about trivial things like that,” Geralt replied in earnest. “I’m not that good looking, or the best at fighting, or ‘a god in bed’. I know witchers who possess much more skill than me, Vesimir being one of them. You brag more about my adventures than I do, and I don’t brag about them at all, because they’re nothing to brag about.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Don’t be so modest Geralt! You could kick anyone’s ass blindfolded! Just your name strikes fear into the hearts of all bad men and monsters who hear it. You’re a walking legend! And sure, my songs may have helped you become famous, but you did work too you know! You gave me the material I needed to help spread the word of the spectacular Geralt of Rivia! No man is as skilled as you, and I’ll be damned if I ever live to see the day where someone truly beats the White Wolf!” He proclaimed. He sighed in frustration. “I brag about your adventures because I’m proud of you, you big, loveable, lumbering oaf,” Jaskier retorted with a slight roll of the eyes. A slight smile of adoration returned to his face. “I am your very bestest friend in the whole wide world after all. It’s my job to tell people how amazing you are.”

Despite his facial expression and words being happy, Geralt could of sworn he heard a twinge of some other element lurking behind Jaskier’s words. Was the bard upset by something? If so, what could it possibly be? Was it because Geralt refused to accept all of his praise? Geralt had fucked up plenty, and all he had done was his job. Nothing more, nothing less. “I’m not being modest, I’m being truthful,” the White Wolf grunted. He sighed, shaking his head as he started to mix some potatoes he had cut into the bowls with the rabbit, along with some carrots. “I never asked you to make me famous,” he replied honestly. “I’m not really fond of fame. It is nice not to be called the ‘Butcher of Blaviken’ as much anymore though,” he admitted reluctantly. He wasn’t expecting Jaskier to say that he was proud of him, and was unsure on how to respond to that part, so he chose not to speak on that. He finished preparing their rabbit stew and shoved a bowl into Jaskier’s hands. “Eat,” he added, hoping that maybe this would get Jaskier to shut up for 5 minutes. As nice as it was to have company, Jaskier tended to blabber nonstop. Geralt needed his precious minutes of silence in order to recharge his social battery and keep ahold of his sanity.

“See? I helped clean up your reputation! So you’re welcome!” Jaskier said cheerfully with a bright smile on his face. The bard snorted as Geralt didn’t show any emotion or reply about his remarks of being proud of the Witcher, and instead, merely shoved a bowl of rabbit stew into his hands. “You’re such a horse’s arse Geralt! You know that? Are all Witchers this emotionally stunted or just you?”

Geralt snorted. “Can’t speak for all Witchers,” he started. “Are all bards this annoying, or just you?” He snarked in return, his yellow eyes blazing with irritance. “Eat your god damn stew.”

Jaskier seemed a bit offended, his mouth parting to form an ‘o’ shape. He set his bowl of rabbit stew on the log beside him and raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, cranky pants. Have it your way,” he grumbled. He glared sharply at Geralt before picking his bowl of rabbit stew back up and starting to eat. 

Satisfied that Jaskier was finally shutting up, Geralt grunted and ate his stew rather quickly due to his hunger. The Witcher relished in the blissful silence. He put his empty bowl in a bucket that he used for cleaning dishes. Jaskier seemed off, more so than usual. The Witcher couldn’t pinpoint the source. Curiosity filled Geralt, and he decided he would try to get to the bottom of the bard's before in a bit. First, he needed “I think it’s time we get some shut eye,” he announced, slapping Jaskier on the back. “I’ll go patrol the perimeter while you finish your stew.”

Jaskier gagged slightly on his mouthful of stew as Geralt slapped him on the back. He spat some of it out and coughed for a bit before turning around to watch Geralt head deeper into the woods. “Watch it you brute!” He yelled after him. “I don’t think you realize your own strength! You could of killed me!”

Geralt rolled his eyes at Jaskier's dramatic statement. “Sorry,” he muttered nonetheless as he disappeared out of Jaskier’s eyesight and walked further into the forest. The White Wolf didn’t understand why Jaskier was praising him so much as if he was the greatest man to ever exist, or why he seemed offended that Geralt didn’t think he was worthy of so much praise. Jaskier had looked then like Geralt was personally attacking him. The bard had said he was proud of him, and it had sent a slightly warm, tingly feeling throughout him, but he wouldn’t admit that. He didn’t understand the feeling, so he shoved it away. It was probably just from him feeling appreciation from a friend. Yeah, that was it.

Once he was sure that they were safe and that the area around them was secure, Geralt headed back to camp to find that Jaskier had finished his rabbit stew and placed his dirty dishes in the same wash bucket that Geralt had.

“Geralt! You’re back!” Jaskier called out with a slight smile gracing his facial features. “I missed you, despite you being an ass.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t gone that long,” he gruffed as he moved to sit down on a rock. “And you’re the ass.”

“It felt like you were. I was so bored. So I kept working on my newest song, and I’m nearly finished. Just got to write a few more lyrics down.” Jaskier sighed. “Maybe we’re both asses. Why don’t we just talk for a while longer? You know, in a more friendly way and less at each other’s throats. I’ll try my best not to annoy you, and you try your best not to just grunt and be silent and brooding all the time. Sound like a deal?”

A sigh escaped past Geralt’s lips. “Fine,” he agreed, somewhat reluctantly. Maybe he could use this as an opportunity to find out what was up with his companion. 

Jaskier smiled. “That’s the spirit Geralt!” He said cheerfully. “You know, I’ve gotten you to talk quite a bit today, more so than usual, so why don’t we switch it up for a while? I know you don’t like to do much talking, so why don’t you ask me some questions?”

Geralt saw this as his opportunity to ask about Jaskier’s strange behavior, and he seized it immediately. “Jaskier…” He started, his golden eyes fixed intently on the bard. “You take a great deal of interest in me, you care more about my accomplishments and honor than I do. You took offense when I said I wasn’t that great as if I directed it at you.” His eyes scanned Jaskier’s facial features, trying to pick up on any hidden emotion that might show him what the bard might be hiding. “You’ve been complimenting me a lot, more so than usual, and you said you were proud of me. Why are you acting like this? I want to know why.”

Jaskier laughed nervously, his smile starting to fade a little. “Can’t a bard be proud of his best friend and be nice to him?” He asked, scratching the back of his neck. His bright blue eyes darted about, unable to meet the Witcher’s golden orbs. He wet his lips, swallowing a lump in his throat. The bard yawned suddenly, stretching his arms behind his head. “You know, I didn’t realize how tired I was. All that walking and working on my new songs really sucked the energy out of me. I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Good night Geralt!” He said quickly, acting casual as he walked over to his bedroll by the fire and got under the covers. Jaskier had turned his back towards Geralt so that the Witcher could no longer see his friend’s face. 

The White Wolf grew ever more suspicious of Jaskier, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the bard. Normally he could never get Jaskier to shut up, but his questions had his traveling companion fleeing from him like he was a rabid dog chasing him down an alleyway. “Hmmm…” He wondered what that damn bard was hiding. It couldn’t be anything good. “Good night,” he muttered in return before settling down on his own bedroll on the opposite side of the fire. He left Jaskier alone for now. Maybe he could prod whatever secret Jaskier was keeping out of him in the morning. For now, he needed his rest. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind of all the thoughts that had been racing through it and managing to ease himself into slumber within a short period of time. 

***

"Geralt!"

Geralt bolted awake as he heard Jaskier shout his name, his golden eyes snapping open. He had jumped to his feet like a rocket and turned his head quickly to look at Jaskier to see what was wrong and if the bard was in trouble, as Jaskier was rather good at finding it. Much to his relief, no trouble was found, and the bard was still sleeping, completely unharmed. Geralt allowed himself to relax, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. The Witcher had never heard Jaskier yell in his sleep before, though he had heard the bard murmur some incoherent things as he dreamed. Geralt although somewhat curious to what the other man was saying, never cared to decipher Jaskier's words, dimissing it as him babbling nonsense from his dreams. Geralt settled back down in his bed, resting his head against the pillow and closing his eyes. The dream would pass over Jaskier. The man was in no real immediate danger, and Geralt needed his shut eye. The White Wolf had almost fallen back asleep when he heard Jaskier's voice again.

"Gods, Geralt…" Jaskier's voice was airy and light, and his eyelashes fluttered in his sleep. He arched his back slightly, tightly gripping the edge of his blankets and fisting them. His lips were parted, and he panted slightly. 

Geralt had opened his eyes and sat up slowly this time, his golden orbs wide with shock. Jaskier was moaning, and it wasn’t out of pain, no, this was out of pleasure. Or at least, that’s what Geralt thought it to be. There was no way Jaskier was having a dream about him in that way, right? The Witcher denied the truth, at least for the moment. But the evidence was becoming ever more apparent as he watched Jaskier’s movements and picked up the scent of arousal in the air. Geralt stood there frozen, stunned by what he was witnessing.

“Oh bloody hell that’s it, Geralt right there,” Jaskier moaned, grabbing his blankets tighter and tossing his head back in his sleep. “Come on, go harder,” he said in a plea. "Don't worry, I can take it.”

Geralt swallowed a lump in his throat. There was no denying it anymore. Jaskier was definitely dreaming about him fucking him, and it was starting to do things to the Witcher’s body. He felt a spike of arousal shoot through him, and the White Wolf wet his lips. He had no idea Jaskier swung that way, let alone that his friend thirsted after him. This explained why Jaskier had acted so strange earlier. At last, he had his answer. Geralt had admittedly thought a few times what it might be like to have intimacy with the bard, but he always had shoved the idea aside after a few moments and never dwelled on it because he thought it would never happen. The witcher knew that if he allowed himself to fanaticize over things that he thought weren't likely to occur that it would only hurt him in the end. Now that he knew Jaskier wanted him too, he allowed himself to imagine them being intimate just like Jaskier was doing in his subconscious. The difference was that Jaskier actually believed they were being intimate, and didn’t know he was dreaming, and Geralt was fully aware of his stream of thought. He felt perverted in that moment, trying to force himself to look away from Jaskier, but he found himself unable to, entranced by the bards movements and the sounds that he was making that rang throughout the crisp, cool night air.

Jaskier’s moans continued to sound from his throat as he squirmed under his blankets, his limbs moving constantly as he appeared to be rather restless. “Fuck, Geralt,” he groaned. He tossed and turned quite a bit in his sleep. “You feel so damn good.” His back arched a bit more, a long drug out groan came from the bard.

Geralt felt even more arousal shoot throughout his body as he continued to watch and listen to the bard. The Witcher’s skin heated up, and he felt blood flow directly south, lust simmering in his groin. He debated on what to do. It wasn’t exactly ethical to watch his friend like this, but it wasn’t his fault that Jaskier was having this sort of dream. Geralt drew in a shaky breath. His stoic composure was starting to dissipate. He knew that society frowned heavily upon two men being physical with one another, but Geralt was already considered a freak by society anyways due to his status as a Witcher. Jaskier could potentially have his career ruined, but nobody needed to find out. Geralt wanted to be intimate with Jaskier, if that is what the bard truly wanted as well. He clenched his jaw as he thought over various courses of action. Should he wake Jaskier up or just let him sleep? Geralt decided waking Jaskier might be a bad idea. He didn’t want to startle the bard, and he knew his friend needed to rest, and so did Geralt. Geralt breathed in and exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm himself before laying down and pulling his blankets back over him. The best thing to do would be to try to go back to sleep. He could talk to Jaskier about it in the morning. Staying awake would just make the situation worse, as Jaskier was relentless with spilling his words of filth. 

“Geralt! Don’t ever stop! I-I want you to fuck me so hard that I feel it tomorrow!” Jaskier cried out, his bottom lip trembling. He let out a whimper, holding so tightly onto the edge of the blankets covering him that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. 

Geralt breathed in and out once more, trying to ignore Jaskier's dirty words as he closed his eyes. It was difficult considering his now rather prominent erection, but he used his willpower to get himself back to sleep. Luckily, Jaskier had quieted down somewhat, and Geralt hadn’t gotten woken up again. However, he did dream of the bard that night as well, his own imaginings of what fucking Jaskier would be like taking over his subconscious. Luckily for him, unlike his companion, Geralt didn't talk in his sleep; at least, not nearly as much.


End file.
